At the Pyramids
by squibblyquill
Summary: Spike and Buffy seem to be dating, again! But this time they've decided to get away from California and try out the Pyramids. But is getting away really enough to give them a shot at having a 'normal' romance? Set after the end of the series, with some details from Spike's adventures in the series 'Angel.' Rated T for teen and over. Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy the show or Angel.
1. Sure you trust me?

AN: I have this written basically to a natural end. It may go further, but I won't leave people hanging on this story arc - everything has already been written.

(((&&&))))

He eagerly watched her finish her second soda glass full of fresh mango juice, as his anxious fingers twirled the straw to his own concoction.

She shot him a glance, smiled, and leant back to enjoy the night air. The club was like an oasis in a crowded city full of palm trees, mimosa and myrtle.

"Not bad," she remarked approvingly before letting her head fall back against the night one more time.

"I discovered this place not long before heading over to the far East." He raised an eyebrow teasingly, knowing it might remind her of a story he'd told her what seemed like ages ago.

"It's beautiful." She exclaimed with her eyes still closed.

"Changed a bit, but yeah..." He cleared his throat and touched the collar of his new leather jacket. For some reason, he still got nervous about these things with her.

His minor self implosion was arrested by a playful bat at his feet. Spike looked down to see Buffy's pink shoe, still dusty from their walk around town, toeing the cuff of his jeans.

Raising his gaze he was struck by the air of mischief and glee in hers. The residual tension in his chest gave way to growing curiosity.

"So, what's that look in your eye, Slayer?" He growled.

"Oh, I've got a look in my eye?" She bat her eyes wide with sarcastic naivete.

"You're not fooling anyone with that dumb blond act. C'mon, out with it." He alternated between gruffness and coaxing, letting a hand glide softly over her knee.

"Want to go on a slaying spree around the pyramids?"

He chuckled and bared his teeth, taking one last smooth sip of his cocktail.

"I thought you'd never ask..."

(((+++)))

She heard the muffled thud of his boots shuffling in the sand several meters away. The night was tepid, and the breeze brought hints of coolness mixed with dust. Light sweat christened her brow. She swallowed hard on a now slightly dry mouth.

It was dark. Very dark. She had brought one flash light, but in the vast desert terrain before them, it was nearly useless. Only the sliver of the moon gave form to the behemoth outline of the triangular sentinels beside them.

"No demons," she announced at last.

"Funny, I remember there being more than that my last visit."

His rich voice eased in behind her, and she took a breath.

"Wonder where they all went..." She mused in a whisper, turning her head just as he slid a hand under her hair.

"You're thinking of something else, aren't you?" Her tone softened. He squeezed her neck and sent shivers down her spine.

"I also happen to know a place where privacy can be had," he said against her ear.

"Hmmm...fooling around in a millenia old tomb...? Sounds like asking for trouble to me. And ewww, just a little bit, maybe?"

"Aw, c'mon luv. I know you, how many times did we have a little run in my crypt. I believe you called that 'comfy' if I'm not mistaken..."

Their hands played the game of touch and tease a moment before she relented, and allowed him to lead her through the sands and rocky earth.

"It should be just about here..." he mused a moment, before grunting with satisfaction. Kicking what seemed to be a smallish stone, it started to shake until the sand fell away from it, revealing a much larger flat stone structure.

"Great, still here."

She caught his grin in the moonlight, and held the flashlight to the ground before them. He jumped to his knees and fiddled for a few more minutes until he found a groove and ran his finger down across it. The rock shook slightly and Buffy saw the sands shift a little way off.

"There!" Spike shouted with triumph, grabbed her hand and brought her to the edge of a newly formed sinkhole.

"Wow, you've got to be kidding me, right?"

"Don't you trust me? Just a little jump, then I'm sure it'll be quite civilized."

...


	2. In the Hall of the Pyramid King

AN: Recall in last chapter, they were about to jump down a newly created sinkhole in front of the Giza Pyramids...

(((&&&)))

Buffy's first thought was something she normally did not utter publicly. Yes, Spike had been correct, it was indeed extremely civilized, but then she'd also forgotten Spike is Spike.

"Move and you die."

They were surrounded by needle sharp machetes, held by demons with dark blue skin, fur on their bodies, long canines, and yellow cat eyes. Of course, they were dressed in gold plated armor styled after the ancient Egyptian reliefs.

Spike groaned. Partly because he'd been so stupid. And partly because he'd been so stupid in front of Buffy. He shifted his feet slightly as he felt her back press slowly into his.

"So this is your idea of civilized?" She shot with syrupy sarcasm.

"Well, I guess they've done more work on the place since I last visited. Have to admit, the hall of chandeliers, oriental carpets and slot machines does look pretty snazzy."

They were in some kind of antechamber, but just a little bit beyond them, the ceiling opened up forming a miraculous arena of luxury and demonic corruption.

"Spike, they have cages full of kittens." She was cut off as a rod probed her ribcage. A guard gave her a dirty look, and she gave him one right back, turning quickly to catch a glimpse of Spike's profile.

"Yeah...Demon gamblers tend to have those..."

(^)

"So what have we here?" A grisly voice grated from behind the guards.

The ring of catlike demons opened to reveal a creature of middle height resembling the common statues of Horace. Its bird face eyed the two with greedy scrutiny. Laughter of the underworld casino guests wafted into their little foyer.

"Oh no..." Spike grumbled quickly. Buffy realized at once that he recognized the demon.

"Don't tell me you owe this one kittens too," she lanced nervously over her shoulder.

"I wish. I'm afraid we've gotten ourselves into a world of nasty."

"Well at least we found out where all the demons hide."

The guards suddenly jittered with new energy. Apparently the Horace-look-alike was speaking to them in their own language.

"Please, demon-language boy, enlighten me?" Buffy pressed her back strongly against his, bracing for attack.

"Trust me you don't want to know."

"Trust me you don't want me not to know." She stepped brusquely on his boot heel, making him wince.

"Right, they recognize both of us."

"Both of us?"

The demons were growing more and more agitated.

"Yeah, me, because well, I'm me. And you because well, you're special."

"Special? Oh lovely, how? And why is this bad?"

"Ahem...so the prophecy was perhaps true after all. Welcome chosen guests..." The bird man took a step toward them. Buffy shivered.

"Probably killed the guy who wrote the prophecy too," Spike whispered roughly into her ear.

"Welcome, to my grand estate. Welcome, to the cradle of your puny civilization..."


	3. Black Jack or Dating's a Bad Joke

(((%%%)))

"Yeah, Spike, really evil, really bad..." she laughed and flipped her blond hair over her shoulder as she looked over her poker hand, a large pile of chips sitting on the table in front of her.

"I'm telling you, there's something really wrong with all of this. Last time, I met that guy, if I'm not mistaken, he was not very big on random acts of generosity, even if for the sake of self-promotion!" He gesticulated with some force as his face stretched with emphasis.

"Oh, c'mon, if they try to kill us, let's at least have some fun first. I want to see if I'm any good at this." She recrossed her legs and took a sip of amber whiskey.

"Buffy, what has gotten into you?"

"Spike," she gave him an eye and placed a finger on his lower lip, giving him a minor thrill. So what if they were planning to kill them, Buffy was happy. Okay. Fine.

The troll sitting across from them coughed and broke in just as Buffy had grabbed Spike's collar and was about to lean in for a kiss.

"So the little one likes creatures of the night, intriguing," he mused critically, a hint of curiosity on his breath. Spike's jealousy sensors lit instantly.

"She likes ensouled creatures of the night...generally..." Spike retorted with half winded gusto. Buffy squeezed his leg under the table and took another sip before drawing her card.

Turning to her, Spike carried on, "And you're sure you really don't want to do anything at all apart from play poker and schmooze? I don't remember you being this friendly with demons before..."

"Oh, really Spike?" Buffy raised a silencing eye, "In any case, now that the world is full of slayers, I've learned to relax a little. This establishment seems fairly reputable, out away from the city, decent hospitality, why go around making enemies?"

The troll grunted in approval.

Spike rolled his eyes and slowly watched the whiskey disappear from Buffy's glass.

((...))

Two hours and four whiskeys later, Spike was starting to smoulder under the pangs of bad intuition. Buffy just wasn't herself.

She was laughing and flirting with all the demons, but thankfully also paying him lots of attention. It made him uncomfortable, but every time he got bristled, she'd slide up to him and smile and for a minute our two he'd forget whatever he was worried about.

Finally it dawned on him.

"Buffy, what about the prophecy?"

"What prophecy?" She giggled and put down a full flush, to the dismay of the other three creatures seated at the table.

"The one that bird brain guy talked about when we walked in!" Funny, Spike was having trouble remembering details. This could not be a good sign.

"Oh that guy, the one you thought you knew or at least thought might know you. I don't remember anything about a prophecy. He just gave us a warm welcome and sent us in with a load of chips. Why?"

The dealer was starting a new round. Buffy's pile of chips had reached to near the height of her head.

"And the kittens! Yeah, the kittens! Why don't the kittens bother you?" Spike was desperately searching for straws of clarity.

"Ooooooh kittens!" she cried gleefully like a child.

"But they gamble using kittens. These chips, they are kittens. Buffy. Kittens. You hate that. Look over there."

Over on the fall wall sat stacked cages full of mewling kittens, their cries nearly drowned by the hubbub of the gamblers.

"Oh yeah, those kittens. Cute little buggers aren't they?"

Spike's jaw dropped. Something was really really wrong.


	4. Wrapped in Memory at the Poker Table

AN: _There is reference to some physical 'action' in this longer chapter. So reader discretion advised. It's longer as it was a stand alone originally, but I preferred to integrate it into Spike's memories in the story, rather than use it as a prequel or intro chapter, especially since the Show tended to use memories with Spike to no adverse effect._

((($$$)))

Spike rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, as the anxiety in his gullet morphed into a sensation far more nebulous. The noisy atmosphere dulled to a low, distant drone, and Buffy's still smiling face started to glow in a contemplative blur. He blinked several times, before realizing he could not help but slip into a memory-the first time Buffy and he had met, after he had died and come back to life.

Too tired to resist, and still bothered by his companion's odd behavior, he slipped deeper and deeper into what was now a graceless yet priceless jewel of recollection...

The faces of the demons and that nasty troll faded out, making room for other images.

**(( ))**

"What are you doing here?" She looked up following her instincts toward the shadow in the hall.

"I heard you went to Italy," a sulky but sexy voice proffered, quickly followed by the familiar sight of sallow cheeks and titanium blond. His face broke into a smile, "You obviously haven't gone soft. Still pulling me out of the dark."

"Hiding was never your strong point."

"What was?" He grinned knowingly, provoking her with a glance and the subtle movement of his torso.

"You had several if I remember correctly." She opted for cheery diplomacy, leaving him to guess if she was pushing him away or inviting him forward.

"Nice hair, Goldie, did the Italian stylists get to you?" He countered with his own backhanded compliment. Hesitant to reach out and touch her hair as he once did, he cocked his head at the serious expression spreading over her delicate features.

"I heard you came to Italy to see me. But you never saw me." She cast her eyes away after meeting his gaze pointedly.

"You were…occupied." A dull wrenching twist nagged at his gut. _Must be the soul in me—regret?_ _Regret you didn't come see her earlier_. He blinked and tried to force himself to remember the last time he tried to see her, he'd been fighting with Angel and Buffy'd been having a fling with…

"Oh. Yeah, right…" She tucked a hair nervously behind her ear.

"You aren't still…occupied, are you?" He couldn't help but ask.

Her arm fell away from her chest and her body language opened slightly.

"Um, well no, not exactly."

"So did you ever get to bake that cookie of yours?" He wasn't about to let her fill the 'not exactly' part with excuses and so opted for a slightly different front.

"Angel told you that?" Her eyes bugged, and he realized he'd successfully diverted the conversation.

"Unfortunately," he mocked, sizing her up with his appetite behind the mask of frivolous disdain. It'd been so long since he'd seen her, held her…

"I guess. I'm different now. I've seen the world. Lived for myself. I'm not unique anymore. It's different, but…nice." She shrugged.

"Glad to hear."

"You still fight evil?"

"Surprises never cease, this time I don't even do it to impress women."

"What, trying men these days?"

"No," he coughed nervously, but smiled when he noticed her grin.

"So, Spike, you mean to tell me you died saving the world, came back to life and never planned on letting me know personally?" Spike gulped at Buffy's reproof. The conversation had obviously hit on the big pink elephant standing between them. A part of him was relieved Buffy had opted for the direct approach, even though another part of him wanted to weasel out of this leg of the conversation as quickly as possible. Her directness reminded him of the night after they first lay together, the night after their first _real _conversation. Grimacing, he tried his best to bury the hope that she might still want that from him.

"I thought about it, but then I didn't know if you wanted to see me. I mean, you thought I was dead. How could I just pop in?!"

"You didn't think I'd want to see you?" Incredulity and protest rose in her voice. Buffy was surprised at the strength of her own reaction.

"I thought maybe you needed to be yourself, do your thing, have your life…and that maybe you didn't need some loser vampire mucking up your life anymore," at last he'd said it. The expression in his eyes was raw, and slightly moist.

"Thank you. I mean, for thinking of me that way. But…don't think I didn't…"

"Oh, don't lie to me, don't try to tell me that you missed me! You went on bloody holiday as soon as I was out of the picture! And then you went off bonking what's his face…" He kicked himself for raising his tone at her.

"Well you could have told me you were alive!" She shouted back defensively, her eyes now a little moist as well, "And he was a rebound for all you care. It's not like I expected to settle down and share a life with him."

"Oh, you didn't?! Well great. Because, I really couldn't care either way. Your life is none of my business, Slayer. I'm just some git who reads poetry in one of the many countless holes in the walls of LA and saves the odd human here and there. Never mind I was a ghost without a body trapped inside a hell-bent law firm, not to mention my hands got cut off trying to rehabilitate a psycho killer slayer!" He felt himself loosing it and so shut up before he got any more incoherent.

"Your hands were cut off? But you have them."

"Surgery. Rehabbed with Nintendo," he exclaimed firmly in a bout of self-disgust, opening his palms and looking down at them with the recollection.

"You could have told me," her expression shifted, putting him off guard.

"Yeah, well, I didn't…I…couldn't." He uttered in spent exasperation.

"Couldn't?" She raised an eyebrow. He noticed she had moved closer but was too afraid to let the fact of it sink in.

"I was afraid."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. I just…When I died, it was…well you know…saving the world, you telling me you loved me…I didn't want to lose that. I know you can never love me like you loved Angel, but I felt what we had then and I…couldn't bear to lose it…" His head sunk at the admission.

"I don't see what this has to do with Angel. You were the one fighting by my side," she responded softly.

Spike lifted his head and smiled at the irony, "You said once you'd put us in a room, well we did just that you know…fighting over who was worthier to become human and…" He shot a telling glance.

"…and claim me?" She interrupted, "God you two never stop!"

"Guess you don't want to know who won, do you?" He began to strut subtly around her.

"Oh, like I care!" she dismissed, but her eyes followed him as he continued to circle her.

"_I_ did. And I think you _do_ care."

"Don't flatter yourself," she retorted. But before she'd finished her sentence, her hands were already gripping his shirt, and soon her body pressed forcefully into his.

"So the Slayer hasn't forgotten her little playmate after all…" He mused, sensual anticipation crawling through his skin. Her body was strong and warm, and God had he missed its touch!

"Quit that…" her mouth moved, but her hands kept at him.

"Quit what?" he asked half confused, half turned on.

"Quit acting like you're nothing, that you're no one. It isn't true…" she kissed him and came up for air to speak again, "You were more than a playmate when I last saw you; you'd been more than that for a long time. And you're not just some seedy git." She tried to kiss him again but he stopped her.

"Hey, I never said I was seedy," he lay a finger on her lip.

"I know. I just love giving you a hard time," she smiled.

"So what's it like being normal now? Not so unique anymore?"

"If by not unique you mean not having have had to save the world countless times, then honestly couldn't tell you." She scrunched her face that way she always did when she thought she was being smart. "But if you mean not being the only one on slayer duty, I'd say great. But maybe just a little boring…" her mouth clambered for his, "at least every once and a while…"

Buffy clawed at him, tearing away bits of clothing, and he responded vigorously. In seconds, he had her on the floor. It wasn't long before she threw him on his back and climbed on top of him. As she rode him, he thought he saw stars—it had been so long. The fire burned like it had so long ago.

Time and space ceased to exist until laying spent, the two finally returned to their surroundings wrapped in each other's nakedness.

"Well, at least we didn't make the building fall down this time."

"Hm…I suppose we didn't," his blond head snapped in bemused inspection of the structural integrity of their surroundings. Her hand stroked his chest, and he returned to feed on the vision of her face, and sundry other charms.

"How did you find me here?"

"Funny thing, I heard you were in this town and then I followed my nose…"

"Ewww, gross. Vampire smelly thing."

"Now luv, is that a complaint?" With a stealthy hand he reached to caress a slightly more sensitive area, causing her to close her eyes with pleasure.

"Fine, whatever…" her voice grew weak from the pleasure

"So, Slayer," he stopped his ministrations to look her squarely in the eyes, "Does this mean we're together?"

"Well, I guess given our history, it's probably a safe question to ask," she reflected out loud, knitting her brow.

His heart jumped and he tried his best to collect her more closely into his arms.

"So I'm taking it, you're not planning to run off to Angel boy, then?"

"Nah…" she shook her head and put a hand in his hair, vision softening with the sight of her lover's comeliness.

"So, together then." He plied, stomach in his throat.

She looked at him quizzically, then relaxed.

"If by together you mean in an actual relationship, I guess yes."

"There's a first," he nearly coughed.

She pulled his ear eliciting a cry of protest.

"Spike…" she started to warn, but melted into another kiss. The two of them lay back, resting their heads on the floor, looking into each other's eyes.

"Right," he said at last.

"Yep," she answered.

They lay there, silent but satisfied until morning.

**((^^))**

Spike continued to drift in the bittersweet space between the reality of the poker table and his memories for what seemed like an age. Buffy carried on oblivious.


	5. And the Show Begins

A roll of drums broke Spike's worried and wistful contemplation. Glittering, scantily dressed she-demons paraded out into the aisles and onto the stage on the other side of the hall. A spotlight shone on the divide in the curtains, and out popped Mr. Horace-face or what's his name, wearing a süit and red bow tie.

"Now my very honored lady, are you ready for your shining hour?"

Another spotlight landed on Buffy.

"Well of course, hit me! You know I'm no party pooper."

Spike's head hurt as he watched her get up and start walking to the platforms as demons throughout the hall cheered. He rose to stop her, getting in her way, but she frowned and tried to push him aside. Soon the thick grip of the troll and five other large demons had him pinned to the poker table.

"Buffy, don't go! It's a trap. Buffy no!"

"Hush, hush, dear gentleman. Don't be jealous, your turn is coming soon..."

Spike struggled to raise his head to follow Buffy and the strange scene unfolding.

"Now my lovely jewel, won't you turn about. Show yourself off a minute..."

Spike watched with horror as his girlfriend-he-didn't-really-know-what spun with her golden locks twirling around her beaming face.

"Now," the bird-man took her gently by the shoulders, "We've got something even better for you, just step aside here, and my associates will assist you. Go on, go ahead..."

Buffy pranced behind the stage curtain. Spike gulped hard.

Several minutes later, a totally new Buffy stepped out onto the stage. Made-over to model perfection, encased in a blood red sequined backless dress, a slit going up the side all the way to her thigh.

Blinking incredulously, he felt the thugs around him tugging him up off the table.

"And now for our second guest of honor..."

((%%%))

"Get your hands of me! Buffy, time to go home! Buffy wake up! Get off!" Spike spat as the mob drug him towards the stage.

"Hmm...nice coat, vampire boy. I'd put you in a chic red velvet to match your sweetie, but I get the feeling you wouldn't be gracious enough to play along." The bird-head spoke darkly, as the audience laughed in response.

"Spike!" Buffy smiled and twirled. "C'mon, Spike, I want to see you in red!"

Spike blinked. _Buffy wants to see me in red?_ Then he shook his head clear, trying his best to snap her out of whatever spell had a hold on her.

"Buffy, I'll wear red anytime you like, but it's time to go home now. Tell these people to let me go, and we can go back to the hotel, and if need be, skip the hotel and go straight to the airport."

"Now my lady, will you please step inside these?"

In an instant, a horrific dais was revealed with chains for the wrists and neck dangling in golden shimmers.

"I'm afraid the night will get a bit messy, and we need to make sure you're securely fastened."

"Buffy no!"

But his cries were useless. She walked with a bounce in her step straight to the dais and stood against it, as two guards approached to fasten the chains.

"Now, my dear, let me tell you, you look simply stunning. If only your partner were better behaved, we'd really have an elegant Show tonight. Anyway, it's a mere aesthetic detail. Open the book!" At that, the bird-faced demon's voice changed from faux-friendly game Show host to a deep numinous rumble.

((^%^))

"_Tonight we call upon the forces of the first world, to feast on the souls of the two chosen ones, as was given to us in the unholy prophecy_."

Smoke began to rise from the stage, and the lights in the hall dimmed. The room rippled with low moans and growls of anticipation.

"You, my lady, original line of the slayer, before the tree branched, you are the seed-the seed that should not be. You who have returned from the realm of unbeing by means of darkest mysteries. You are the power and the portal. Your soul we sacrifice to the forces of the first world, asking for its blessings upon our realms. And in return we shall render you one of us. You shall live forever, like us, a demon, like us."

Spike searched Buffy's face for a trace of awareness, a hint of rebellion. All he saw was a vapid stare out of glossy eyes.

"And, you, ensouled creature of the night. The champion of the hour, we require your soul as well. You too have returned to life through means of darkest mysteries. Your energies and souls are linked now by the fates you have chosen."

Spike grunted as they chained him in silver to a rack that had just risen from a trapdoor in the floor. He tried to fight, but the hordes surrounding him were far beyond his strength to repel.

Spike felt his shirt being lifted and a sharp slice of flesh. Grimacing, he met the fiery opaque bird stare of the demon as he walked over to pick up the blade now smeared with Spike's blood. The creature reached out for the blood still flowing from the fresh wound, caressed him lightly and then dug a nail into the cut before raising the dripping finger to his beak and sampling with a chipper snap of his elongated mouth.

"Oh, yes, this one's ensouled all right."


	6. Tyrant Unmasked

With a growing numbness in his side, Spike realized Buffy was as good as out for the count. He would have to find a way to save them both, or at least get her to snap out of whatever spell she was under so they could at least go out fighting together.

A chant began to thrum though the masses surrounding them. The thugs on his arms and back pushed him up onto the platform, where a second dias had been revealed from behind the curtains.

Spike shot a glance around the room looking for ideas, but winced when I saw several cat-like demons bringing out bowls of entrails and other fresh looking organ bits. Writhing, and clawing at his foes, he did his best to stall, but the chains biting into his flesh left a futile despair growing in his gut.

"Oh really, like you really think this is a good idea - getting in touch with the first World? Sounds like a recipe for utter apocalypse if you ask me."

"Yes, it may result in the utter transformation of your World. But you and I shall live as Gods in it." The horace-creature's voice bellowed low.

"Gee, that deep voice of yours doesn't match the cheesy suit. Maybe you should go back to fashion school, bird brain." Okay, it wasn't his best, but thinking of witty comebacks while kicking and biting at the hoard of demons all around you wasn't exactly a piece of cake.

The bird-demon tilted its onyx head as if with mild curiosity.

"I certainly hope you're worthy of true eternity. Your companion at least understands the value of our gift to you."

Great, just what Spike needed, some demon trying to tell him how to spend of the rest of his accursed afterlife. But he decided to push it, hoping he might trip the demon up just a little.

"Right, and you sure know how to live it up in that snazzy tie - congratulations pal, you give eternal shame, a whole new shade of meaning!" Spike tried his best to free a hand to reach down into his jacket. If he could just get a stake or a weapon of any kind, things would be a lot easier, that is, relatively speaking. Preventing the apocalypse was never a cake walk.

"I would never have believed the prophecy, had I not seen it with my own eyes. When she told me you were one of the two chosen ones, I almost incinerated her on the spot," the sinister voice chuckled, wrenching undead sweat from the back of Spike's neck.

The creature continued to gloat, "Naive urchin of the night, mere shadow of the vermin they call humanity. Don't you know the power that will be released when your and her soul combine, annihilating one another without remainder? Why fight it."

"Trust me, I've fought worse. You're just one more psycho megalomaniac malevolent being on the long list of kills." Spike had almost got to the stake in his pocket.

"Ah, if only my prophetess could see you now, on the night of you imminent glory. A pity she is no longer with us."

Something cool was rubbed over Spike's forehead. Then down his cheeks, as he wrapped his fingers around the stake.

"Though absent, her ashes accompany us on this most special occasion. May the remains of our late vampire seer open the gate joining these two souls in perfect destruction."

"Dru." Spike lost his grip on the stake, and his eyes watched them wipe what could only be Dru's ashes over Buffy's still blank face.

Nausea overwhelmed him. Memories flashed through his feverish vision. Memories of Dru, of her eyes flashing over to a strange and studious Frenchman. His brown hair fell easily over a smooth forehead with face always buried in a book of Demons and hands always dusty from archeological digs. An unlikely warlock slipping daily into darker and darker portals—their guide...and then the accident.

_Dru gone_.

The horace-beast, the warlock turned demon, was busy chanting over Buffy. Spike only half registered the cut they drew across his girlfriend's chest. His mind was in a frenzy. With the power of absolute rage and panic pulsing through his veins, he kicked his feet free of their shackles. That bastard might have tasted Dru, but he was _not _going to have Buffy!

A demon approached him to restrain his feet again, and Spike caught the creature in a leg lock, twisting him so that the creature knocked down a whole row of his kin. Another two fell on his arms from the sides. Spike used his head to render both disorienting blows, kicked off a knife from one of their belts and maneuvered his legs so he could half wield the blade. The rest happened in a blur, but at some point the shackles on his wrists were off, the steak was in his hand, a blade in the other, and he was slaying left and right.

Over the crowd of demons falling on him to restrain him, he could see lights flaring up from the ceremony still centered around Buffy. The sound of moans, female moans, made his heart burn with alarm. Diving through the wall of creatures, he slid, in a typical Spike fashion, under unsuspecting feet, cutting a few ligaments on his way, and landed within sight and a few meters of a now glowing and partially bloodied Buffy. Blue veins were starting to appear over the bare flesh on her chest and shoulders, and the gray sickly color was slowly sliding up her neck and down her arms.

He could see the bird-demon brewing in the shadows beside her, reading in triumph from a now familiar book.

"Emmanuel, this ends here." Spike shouted, evoking visible shock in his interlocutor. At last the pieces were coming together, even if knowing who he was dealing with provided no guarantee of victory.


	7. Don't Wake a Cranky Goddess

"Curious indeed, to hear a name long dead and gone, erased from all mortal memory!" The horace-man roared, raising the pitch in his voice.

"Guess someone didn't get his spell quite right!" Spike retorted before tackling the bird demon.

He'd been aiming for just above the knees to throw his opponent off his balance, but to Spike's dismay, he hit nothing but unrelenting steel. The bird man chuckled as Spike looked up from Emmanuel's unwavering boots into an aviary stare of fire and ice.

"A bit rash, aren't we?" His voice was low and exuded control once more.

Spike didn't move, his mind was thinking too fast for a new weakness, anything. His enemy continued to stare evilly down at him, expression empty and reptilian.

"No matter then. Emmanuel is long dead. And you'll forget you ever knew him in just a moment..."

Spike lunged for the crotch in desperation. As fist hit what seemed like sheer stone, a peel of black laughter erupted from the demon. Spike's hand ached, but he'd used the momentum of the swing to get to his feet. He kicked and punched as the creature continued laughing. Whipping the stake from out his jacket, he aimed for the breast, and gulped as he watched the tip splinter. This psycho was impenetrable.

"You amuse me...But I tire of this distraction..."

Spike turned in a flash, escaping the blow of his opponent by half an inch and lunged toward the still motionless Buffy.

"Buffy, are you there? Buffy, we've got to get you out of this." He shook her violently, already filled with terror at the gray pallor of her skin and the webs of blue veins covering her face and body.

Her eyes were wide open; her face expressionless.

"No Spike, I have to stay here."

"No, you don't, Buffy!"

The bird-creature was coming closer, sauntering over with heavy steps. The other demons remained agitated, not daring to enter the circle of sorcery at work around Buffy's sickly frame.

"Perhaps it's better this way, I'll finish the ritual with you both together..." Emmanuel was only a foot or so away. Spike jumped to the other side of the dais and started pulling at the chains binding Buffy.

"C'mon Buff, wake up, please..." Spike muttered between jabs at the chainwork.

Emmanuel stepped up on the stone dais. His weight made the entire slab shift like a ship tilting on the waves at sea. Spike wagered that as the spell progressed, the demon was getting denser, heavier, more impenetrable.

"Now, little vampire boy, you flit like a bat in that slick black coat, let's see how you flop and flap when I've got you by the throat..." The bird-goliath spat and put his other foot onto the dais, tilting the whole apparatus further askew.

Spike knew it was desperate, and probably wouldn't work, but he lept a step backward and began pushing up on the raised end of the slab. Gathering all his strength as a warrior, he pushed and pushed for what seemed like minutes until he felt the stone shifting. Cold blood burning in his brain, he kept pushing, waiting for the stone to shift just a little bit more. Hearing the confused growl of his enemy, he took heart and gave the thing one last taste of his might.

The dais buckled as Emmanuel swayed trying to catch his balance. The creature's weight and Spike's force combined had snapped the slab. The crack snaked up to one of the anchors for Buffy's chains, and the sound of metal breaking off stone made Spike's chest sing.

"Noooo!" The bird man cried in outrage. Falling to the side, he reached out to steady himself.

Leaping over Buffy, Spike landed a kick to the beak, forcing the not yet stable Emmanuel to wrench his neck sideways.

But Spike still didn't know how to get the rest of Buffy's shackles free from the dais.

"Hah, you think you're so tough." Spike coughed out tauntingly, desperate to buy time.

The bird-demon steadied himself and slowly broke into soft, sinister laughter.

Confused, Spike turned to see what he was looking at. To his dismay, he saw Buffy's eyes now glowing red, limbs awakening.

"Who has summoned me on this night! And who has dared to chain me!" A deep feminine roar tore from Buffy's slight frame.

A grey and blue-veined Buffy stirred and slowly ripped the chains off her body as though they were made of styrofoam.

"Mother, Isis, your Son hath summoned you! Be gracious, the powers that bring you here have not yet completed their work."

"You are no son of mine! Filthy wretch, what trickery is this?!" Buffy-Isis was standing now, eyes aglow, and magic energy whipping like a tornado around her body.

"Mother, you are mistaken! The spell is not yet cast!"

"I do not belong here! And I shall reap vengeance upon the one who has summoned me!"

All Spike could do was blink and gape.

He watched as Buffy-Isis marched to the now trembling horace-look-alike, saw as he pleaded on his knees before her, and gulped as she summarily ripped his head off and threw it into the crowd. The rest of Emmanuel's stone body flickered with electricity before collapsing to the ground.

Then Buffy-Isis roared at the hordes of demons. Lightning sprouted from her fingers, barbequing rows of otherworldly patrons. The rest ran for the nearest exits, and half were crushed in the frenzy.

Buffy-Isis' fury continued, as the air around her whirled with electric charge and violence. Spike realized if he didn't do something quick, Buffy-Isis was on the verge of barbequing herself.

Not knowing what else to do, Spike crept behind her and threw his arms around her. He could feel the winds and sparks biting him from every side.

"I'm not Osiris, but God dammit I'm your boyfriend, and I'm not having Buffy toast!"

"No one touches Isis!" she roared and threw Spike to the ground.

Spike swallowed hard and looked up into red glowing eyes. They were both caught in the force field of power surrounding her, nothing was visible except for the whirling vortex containing them.

"Buffy, you're killing yourself."

"What is one mortal body?" She retorted and raised a hand to strike him.

As the electric shock hit his chest, something in him seemed to respond. A blue flow of energy began to pour out of him and repulse the white bolt of charge that was meant to electrocute him.

"What is this?" The red eyes opened wide in surprise.

The blue light overtook the white. Buffy-Isis tried to pull her hand away, but the blue light held it fast and drew it forward until she stood in wonder with her hand directly over his heart.

"A soul...two souls...but these are but mortal souls!" She cried in dismay, still unable to wrench her hand away.

"Yeah, well, two souls that have been through a lot together. So get out of my girlfriend and go back to where you came from." Spike shouted pointedly amid the whirlwind of magic engulfing them. A pulse deep from inside him spread out and seemed to shift the surrounding air.

He watched as her face twisted in realization. The pulse swept through her and the light in her eyes began to fade. Spike could feel the tornado they were in losing energy. Seeing the light die in her eyes, he reached out to catch Buffy before she fell limply to the ground.

Clothes torn, cut, bruised, but skin returning to a normal pale, Spike held Buffy in the empty hall, littered with demon carcases. Stroking her blond hair, he watched her for signs of life.

"Spike..." she moaned softly, "I don't think this place is such a great idea..."

Spike crushed her to his chest, overjoyed to hear his Buffy back to normal.

Still dazed, she let him squeeze her a moment before asking with utter bewilderment, "Spike, how did I get this torn red dress on?"

"Buffy, I'll explain later. Right now, let's just get back to the hotel. Do you think you can walk?" He eyed her with genuine concern, tenderness coming back into his voice.


	8. Insecurity or Intimacy?

"Spike?" Buffy started softly after he'd just closed the hotel door behind them.

"Yeah, luv?" The response was weary but softened with care.

"I think I know what happened. It's been coming back to me."

"Yeah?"

"But first I think I need to clean up and get out of..." she gestured with some measure of distaste to her torn casino dress, "this..."

"Right," Spike answered quickly, preparing to be shut out. Perhaps there was an hour or two left to prowl alone till dawn.

"I think I'm gonna draw a bath."

"Can't blame you. I'll probably do the same once the sun comes up," he replied in his best tough-guy imitation.

"You going out, then?"

"Probably, especially if I can't find any good soap operas on the telly."

"Spike?"

"Uhuh."

"I don't really want to be alone right now."

"Oh." Spike didn't really know what this meant.

"Just, maybe, could you stay?" Buffy took his hand. He marveled at the softness of her skin.

"Okay, as the lady wishes. I'll...um...just raid the minibar and veg a bit while you have your bath and whatnot..." He kept up with the tough guy act.

Buffy scrunched her face a bit before reaching for the zipper dangling at the bottom of his jacket.

"What?" Spike asked, softening a little.

"Spike...William..." she looked him deep in the eyes, "Thank you for saving me tonight."

He reached instinctively to cup her face and draw it up to his, but stopped himself mid-gesture.

"Last time you called me that..."

"I know, but...it's not that..." she nodded and clasped his cupped hand.

"What is it then, luv?" Spike braced himself for anything.

"Just, stay close to me tonight." She whispered as she let her fingers slide underneath his jacket. He closed his eyes as he felt her hand reach around his waste and her soft core press gently into him.

"What? No lectures for leading you into dark unknown passages?" Spike purred without being able to stop himself. Her touch had lit another part of his brain. He fingered a lock of her hair idly. Looking into her eyes, his grin turned into a look of concern.

"Are you all right?" He ventured.

"Yeah. I'm just...gonna go turn on the water. I'll be right back."

Spike sighed and posited himself with a thud onto the couch. Fishing for the remote with little real desire to watch television, he listened as the water started running in the bathroom.

Flipping through channel after channel he finally gave up, turned off the device and slumped back into the stiff hotel pillows, letting his arms flay artlessly at his sides.

Laying inert, his mind wandered through the last twelve or so hours, but quickly drifted into memories of the distant past. Ensconced in moments long buried in his psyche, he was roused only after several small noises finally brought him back to his surroundings.

"Hey...you plan to just fall asleep in your jacket and your boots?"

"Uh, yeah, caught me there."

"I guess the sand thing doesn't bother you."

"I've had worse..." He finally turned his head to the door of the bathroom and held his breath a pinch at the sight of her clad only in a cotton robe.

If Spike had just walked into a low lit room with slinky jazz music, the mood wouldn't have been more compelling than the sight of Buffy, his Buffy, smiling, leaning with a half fastened robe against the door frame.

"You comfortable there?" Buffy teased.

"Oh well, actually, now that you mention it..." Spike pretended to lounge and make himself at ease.

Buffy pouted her lips slightly, making Spike's lips spread into a grin.

"C'mon, Will." She raised an eyebrow and beckoned him towards the now steamy bath.

"Sorry, I don't have a good record with ladies and bathroom ceramics..." Spike sulked, the memory of the time he nearly forced Buffy floating back into his conscience. He rolled over so he didn't have to look at her, and blindly reached for the remote.

"Spike! Will..." Buffy chided, "It's different now. You know that. I want it to be different."

"How..." he muttered, back still toward the bathroom door.

"You know I'm not good at this, Will."

"Oh, but you're sure good at looking nice and playing sexy..."

"Don't..." she interrupted. "That was before. Everything was before."

"Before what?"

"I'm not sure..." he could hear her voice meander, searching for its own truth, "But it started when we started talking, I mean really talking, being close..."

"Just come out when you're done." Spike kicked himself for so bluntly turning down her invitation.

"Will, look at me."

He reluctantly shifted his weight so he could meet her gaze again.

"No, you look at me, Slayer. What do you see?" He growled with a challenge.

"I see a man, with a soul, a heart, a conscience."

"You don't see a pathetic loser, eternally damned, with the added skill of being able to make your life a living hell?"

"If you mean what happened tonight, trust me, I don't need you to find that sort of stuff. It finds me. And I'd rather have you with me when it does. I trust you more than anyone, I think."

"Well that's rich. I mean, I'd love to believe you, but then maybe I'm just too old fashioned. Maybe when I think of love I still think forever and all that bloody rubbish. You know, kids in the cradle and Nanna the little nursery puppy. And well, I'm a vampire. And vampire's don't get fluffy cuddly forevers."

"Is that what this is about?" Her robe opened slightly as she put her hands squarely on her hips.

"Since the first moment I started dreaming of you, I wanted you to want all of me. Forever, like the naïve little sot I am. But you're, you're a slayer, and I'm dust. I've had my time, and trust me I was just as naïve and sappy then as I am now, if not worse."

"Ok."

"Okay?" He stood up and began to pace.

"Okay, Will, maybe I do want you." She shot coolly across the room.

He walked up to her gruffly, looking her intensely in the eyes.

"Oh, I'm sure. Have your fun." he threw his hands in a gesture of defeat, "You don't know me. What I was. And even if you did, I'm a vampire, I can't give you forever, or even one human lifetime."

"Will, you got your soul back for me. You died fighting by my side. Maybe that counts for something."

"Maybe, but maybe I can't bear to wait around and find out. Maybe my heart's not up to it."

Buffy's eyes shimmered with a hint of moisture.

"I want you to need and crave me, like I need and crave you," Spike went on, letting his hand slip under her robe.

Her lips parted slightly at his touch, and they locked eyes.

"Maybe I do," her doe eyes bore into him.

He let his hands wonder a moment, making them both tingle with sweet apprehension, before pulling away.

"A lot of maybe's, Slayer."

"You've changed."

"Yeah well, I got a soul and I died."

"I died too."

Spike tensed his jaw and did his best not to turn away.

"I almost lost my soul tonight," Buffy shifted the direction of the conversation.

"Yeah, I know. I'm glad you didn't." Spike's eyes softened and he fiddled with the belt of her robe, letting the soft cotton dance between his fingers.

"It wasn't your fault, if anything, it was partly mine."

"No, Buff, he, I mean that guy, bird-brain, put a spell on you..."

"But the spell, it talked to me. It asked me what I wanted..."

"Oh right so it said, hey wanna be possessed by a crazy bitch Goddess from the Egyptian underworld and run around torching people? Buffy, don't make excuses for me. That's the last thing I need." He eyed her curiously, afraid to ask what it was she had wanted.

"I mean, I was under a spell and everything..." she lowered her eyes, "but it told me I could live forever with you. Crazy thought, huh?" She laughed and then her eyes grew big, "Oh the water, forgot!"

Before Spike could digest her words, she had spun around and disappeared into the foggy bathroom.

"But you're better than that Buffy. You know better. You'd never agree to eternity without a soul!" Spike called after her, concerned etched in his features, but a curious glimmer of gratification in his gut. On an impulse, he followed Buffy into the bathroom, and edged in behind her as she fiddled with the faucet, sliding his hand over her shoulder.

"I know," Buffy said simply.


	9. Warmth

AN: _Again strong sensual overtones, but I leave most for the imagination_.

He let his fingers curl around the downy hair at the nape of her neck.

"I mean, you were able to fight it, weren't you? It didn't get you like it got me," she continued.

"Luv, that was daft, you know nothing's worth an eternity without a soul," he chided low, bringing both his hands over and down her shoulders, slowly casting her robe aside.

"I know, but it didn't ask the thinking part of me..." she turned, and Spike took in the image of her bare neckline as she looked back at him questioningly.

Spike brought his cheek down towards hers, pulling her into his body.

"I really don't know, Spike..." Buffy drifted between her own thoughts and the sumptuous pleasure his touch brought her.

"Will, I like it when you call me Will." His jaw tensed a moment at the admission.

The robe lay in a forgotten pile on the floor, and Buffy leaned back into his embrace, finding his hands with hers as they wandered over her smooth skin.

"It scares me," she uttered softly close to his chin.

Spike started slightly, brought out of a moment of silent communion.

"Scares you? Why luv?" Concern laced his tone. He fought with the impulse to retreat slightly as he fingered the stray hairs dangling past her temple, lips only inches from her skin.

When Buffy hesitated in responding, Spike pressed his cool soft lips against the warm flesh beside her ear, lingering, letting the effect of his touch spread through her senses.

"It's just the last time I let someone in...things went so wrong..." Buffy let her head drop and shifted her weight a little deeper into Spike's chest. He carefully collected her more firmly in his arms, pressing his nose into her hair.

"You mean...Angel." He hated saying it.

Buffy nodded a half inch and remained silent.

"He and I are so different, or were so different, you would never have imagined," Spike launched with half-formed gusto.

"That you two are different I can see, Spike...Will..." Buffy retorted with a sprig of humor, turning as she pronounced his given name.

Spike held his breath at the sight of her.

Buffy's gaze was soft. She tenderly let her eyes move over him, returning at last to meet his face.

"I still can't believe you fell for him," Spike blurted. Of course, it was hard to make peace with the fact that she had loved Angel, but only used him, once upon a time. And well, Angel was a jerk with a soul, and without a soul...Spike couldn't understand how someone as good as Buffy...His train of thought stopped as it always did, since here she was loving a guilty vampire.

"He's a bit more tolerable when he has his soul, isn't he?" Buffy gave a knowing wink, and began to help Spike out of his jacket, kissing him sweetly on the neck as she worked. Spike tilted his head back and let his arms relax, letting the feel of her lips swarm his consciousness.

"One difference, Will, one kinda important difference, is that you're always there for me," she murmured as she helped him out of his shirt. Fabric clouded his vision as he felt warm hands and moist lips mining the sensitive regions of his torso.

"Another kinda important difference, is that you started being there for me, even before you had a soul, though things didn't always work out perfectly." Shirt off, his hands were free to reach for her.

"The whole loving without a soul thing is a little unique in my vampire experience." Buffy smiled wryly, driving him wild with jealousy and desire. Spike wished with his entire soul in that moment that he were her only 'vampire experience.'

"Oh, unique am I?" he responded soft and dark, relishing the sharp intake of breath his last caress had produced from his paramour.

She reached for his belt, and Spike brushed his fingertips against the underside of her forearms, then guided one her hands onto the denim fabric, before she could pull it away.

When both were finally fully free of all cloth, Spike took Buffy in a fierce kiss. When he finally released her, she looked at the tub then back to him.

"So?"


	10. Interruptions

"That was different. I got to feel warm lips from you for once..." Buffy mused cheerily, snuggled up against Spike's bare chest on their hotel bed.

Spike purred, stroking his lover's face.

"Great sex too," Buffy indicated with matter-of-fact satisfaction.

"Hush luv, don't ruin it," Spike let his finger glide to the corner of her mouth and raised an eyebrow.

"Ruin what?" Buffy teased.

"Oh...can you feel that curious warmth in the air, that's magic!" Spike went on ironically as if recounting a story to a child.

"Oh, I thought the water had just raised your body temperature above normal," Buffy pulled a face and eyed him petulantly.

Spike growled and rolled over onto Buffy as punishment. He was met with a peel of laughter and slender thighs twining with his. The feel of their bare skin meeting everywhere exceeded description.

He kissed her forehead with playful ceremony.

"Are you mine?"

"Will..."

"Don't Will me, tell me. Am I yours and are you mine?"

Buffy looked up with a sleepy smile sneaking across her features.

"Give me a kiss and I'll tell you."

"No, I asked first..." he raised a finger and chided.

"You mean do I love you? Yes. I do."

"Buff..." he taunted her with the proximity of his lips.

"Or you mean do I want Nanna and puppies and kittens and fluffy endings with you..." Buffy started babbling as she tried to thrash and tickle Spike until he lost his balance on top of her.

He slid to one side, and she turned so they were still facing. Letting a hand comb through his still wet hair, Buffy looked at him a minute before continuing.

"Will, you know I don't have all the answers. You said it yourself. I'm not even sure how a vampire and a human are supposed to have a life together. I mean, you don't die. You're already dead. I'll grow old."

"But you wanted this with Angel." The temperature in his heart cooled a few degrees.

"Spike...Will, I wasn't even 18. I hadn't thought of those things with...him. But I do want it with you, now, even though I don't know how it's possible."

"If I were a man, not a vampire, would you be mine?"

Buffy stared uncomprehending for a moment, and then giggled with dawning understanding.

"Like marry you? Is that..." her laughing grew hushed, "Will, is that what you mean?"

"Yes," he locked eyes with her, vision charged with intensity.

Both her hands reached out to clasp his face in her hands.

Spike's heart sank. Already memories of a past long buried erupted into his psyche. Buffy would be no different.

"But what if I get old? Would we make vampire-human babies? What if..."

"Buffy, it's okay, forget it," he cut her wonder off with the sound of barely contained disappointment.

"Hey..." her smile faded, "What did I just say, Will, you heard me right?"

"I heard a lot of maybes." Spike grumbled and tried to pretend he was engrossed in tracing another one of her ringlets along the pillow, raising his gaze to meet hers here and there.

"I didn't say maybe."

"You didn't have to. All I heard was what you didn't say," the muscles around his jaw flexed.

"Spike," she cooed softly, enjoying the familiar taste of that name in her mouth.

He kept his poker face and ignored the slight plea in her voice.

"I think I would, I mean, if you were a man and not a vampire. But I don't know. I think I'd be different too. Because I'm a slayer. And it's different now too, not being the only slayer anymore..." she continued, letting her free hand move along his neck.

He remained silent.

"But that's not what you were asking, was it?" she bit her lower lip and raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"I don't know what I was asking, forget it."

Buffy inched in to snuggle up more closely to a slightly reluctant Spike. In the end, he gave in and let his arms curl slowly around her warm and supple body.

"Who knows, Will, maybe I'll get killed doing the slayer thing one day and it won't matter. I mean, I won't have to think about what it means to grow old with a vampire who never changes."

For the glint of one instant, Spike's fear of disappointment stayed quiet enough to let him remember how much being a slayer had shaped Buffy's expectation of life.

"But it's not like it worked out with regular humans that well either. Maybe that's just how relationships work. I know you don't want a maybe right now," she lowered her eyes, a little embarrassed at her inability to find the right words.

"Look, you've heard my speech, luv. You know how I feel about you. It hasn't changed."

"I liked your speech," Buffy said shyly and grinned sheepishly, "You do mean the one before..." she continued, as if not quite sure of herself.

"Yeah, before the big fight," Spike quickly interjected.

"When we felt close," Buffy finished, pleased with the recollection.

"You kissed Angel." Spike couldn't help himself.

"But I also told him that I loved you," Buffy tried to squirm, but now Spike had her.

"You did?" He was all ears. This was news.

"Yeah, I mean, kind of..."

Spike's excitement waned a degree.

"I really didn't know what was going to happen then," Buffy started as if to excuse herself, "If I was going to even live to see another day. I'm not sure if I ever really came out of that. Maybe it's just part of being a slayer."

"The future's never certain, Luv. Are you going to let that fact keep your heart from ever truly living?" Spike didn't really know what he was saying, though somehow he felt qualified to speak on the subject.

"I've tried, Spike."

Now it was Buffy resisting, and Spike pushing forward.

"Live with me, we can try together. I could show you, or at least try..." he trailed, eyes lost in a blurred mixture of his own frightening hopes and the angelic face in front of him.

"Aren't we?" Buffy asked with a note of innocent confusion.

"But do we belong to one another?" Spike's voice pronounced the question in a slow hush. He knew he'd placed his hand on excalibur's stoney sheath.

_You want a certainty I don't know how to give. Can't I just lie here with you, feel you, be with you?_ Confusion was the first emotion Buffy felt, but she had no time to turn her thought into words, for all at once the phone broke out in a loud ring and a knock thudded violently at the door.

"Open the door, this is the police," a gruff, masculine voice shouted in English.

"Eeello?" Spike answered with mock nonchalance masking his aggravation into the phone receiver.

Buffy scurried to get decent before attending to the door.

She heard the muffled babble of a female voice from the phone laying against her lover's cheek, wondering who on earth it could be.

"Oh, God, sorry, I mean wrong number, sorry, goodbye!"

Spike raised an eyebrow and tossed the phone roughly back into place, letting his legs land solidly on the carpeted floor, he started looking idly for his jeans, remembering after a second or two they were still in the bathroom.

"Don't open that door until I get back. There's something fishy going on here, I can smell it," he warned pointedly.

"Oh yeah, like you're my guardian angel," Buffy laughed, and then regretted it slightly.

"Guardian angel, devil, demon, vampire whatever, just wait until I find my..." Spike trailed off in the bathroom. The sound of denim and the ring of a shifting belt buckle, told Buffy he'd found his pants.


	11. Care of the Meddlesome

The pounding on the door grew more violent. Buffy and Spike braced themselves, as Buffy finally turned the knob.

"I hope you're aware it's illegal for two unrelated members of the opposite sex to share the same hotel room. And please don't tell me you've got a marriage certificate!" Xander's bulky frame loomed in front of them, eyebrows stitched together in a quizzical stare.

"Well, nice seeing you too...Willow!"

Her red hair peeked around the hall, she came running out of breath to where the other three were already standing.

"What are you two doing here." Buffy demanded in a no-non-sense tone of voice. Normally she'd appreciate the visit, but this was a bit too much.

"Buffy it's true, isn't it?" Willow asked, face white as a sheet, despite the long climb up the stares.

"Yes, Will," Xander gestured emphatically at the two blond heads standing just inside the hotel door, "It's true, feast on it with your very own eyes. The dog returns to its own vomit."

"Okay, Xander, that was excessive," Buffy stated with bulging eyes, somehow still managing to keep her voice level and commanding.

"Yeah, sorry, about the dog part..." Xander dropped his eyes and let his hands wander to his pockets.

"He didn't mean," Willow jumped in breathlessly, "that you were a dog," Willow shook her head and looked pleadingly towards Xander, "it just slipped out...you know, we're both really concerned about you, Buff."

"Concerned, how?" Buffy put her hands solidly on her hips and waited for the explanation.

"Well, Xander was visiting and well, there was this rumor...and when we did a locator spell on you...we saw...and then I've got this new trick where I can teleport, so we..." Willow struggled not to lose her breath between words.

"We saw you were with _him_, and decided it was prime time for an intervention, before things got any more complicated," Xander finished.

"What's so wrong with me being with Spike? He fought with us last big battle. You remember that. He...um...died...helping us." Buffy responded and cast a glance over to her now incredibly irritated boyfriend.

"Well, for one, Buff, he's not human. He's a vampire..." Willow began.

"And two he's Spike...and he hurt you," Xander cut in.

"Gee whiz, why are you two still allergic to Spike? And you didn't hurt Anya when you left her at the altar? Plus, Anya when from bad to good, then bad then good again...sorry," she looked apologetically at Xander, "and you were bad for a while too Will, you never hurt the people you loved?...sorry..." Buffy hated having to apologize for bringing up sensitive stuff, but it drove her crazy to think they were still so judgy about her and Spike being an item.

"You have a point," Willow punctuated by a sharp intake of breath, "We'd just thought," she said with concern wrinkling the skin above her eyebrows, "that you'd moved beyond him..."

"Evolved beyond him," Xander cut in with extra emphasis.

"Okay, I'm pond scum. Is that what you've come all this way to say? Lovely, we've heard it, now please move along." Spike, who'd thankfully thrown his jacket on, crossed his arms and tried to look tough.

"I mean, Buff, you're not really sleeping with him again, are you?" Will pleaded as Xander pulled a face and tried to pretend he hadn't heard the question.

"Woah, since when am I not an adult? And since when are you my relationship police? And who are you to judge who I'm sleeping with?" Buffy lanced an eye at Willow.

"I mean, really, how would you feel, Will if I knocked on your door to keep you sleeping with a woman, or you Xander, if I came to your place and gave you a speech for sleeping with demon chicks?" Buffy knew she was treading on raw ground, but they had really outdone themselves this time.

The two stood in uncomfortable silence.

"And where were your objections when I had that fling with a vampire in Italy?"

Spike swallowed. He remembered that fling all too well.

"We thought you just needed to get it out of your system..."

"Like maybe you were missing...him..." Xander cut in, nodding his head in Spike's direction, disgust still obvious in his tone.

"Or that maybe you just needed to experiment and explore your freedom, you know, taste exotic and mildly forbidden fruit..." Will tried nervously to soothe.

"Oh, Will, so was Tara just an experiment?" Buffy felt bad for saying it, but she meant it all the same.

"No...definitely not, no, I mean, how dare you?" Willow's face turned pink.

"Buff," Xander tried to interject.

"Well, how do you two dare come barging in like this on me? This is my life!" Buffy was almost shouting, while Xander and Willow began simultaneously throwing objections laced with apologetic quips.

Spike stepped forward out into the hall, addressing the lot of them.

"Sorry to interrupt, while you all discuss my existential worth, or lack thereof," at that last comment he lanced a look at Buffy and then turned once more to the others, "but if you keep this up, then the _real_ police will come, and I don't know who of you feel like spending a few hours in jail today, but I certainly don't."

"I'm sorry for this, Spike, Will..." Buffy corrected – it was strange calling him William in front of everyone else.

"Oh, you Will him now?" Willow's eyes got big as she exclaimed in a dramatic whisper.

"Get in, you sorry lot. Come take over our private hotel room, please, be our guests!" Spike soured sarcastically, ushering them in so he could close the hall door behind them.


	12. Damage Control

AN: _Okay, this is the natural end of the original story arc. Let me know if you think it's worth another jaunt._

"Such a blessing to have friends who care about you, isn't it?" Spike loaded the tense air with sarcasm.

"Is it just me, or does everything that comes out of his mouth make you sick too?" Xander asked the others.

"It's just you, Xander." Buffy replied softly.

"But, Buff, you do have to admit, he does have the tendency to say rather unsavory, jerk-like statements." Willow tried to get Buffy to turn to her.

"I think in this case, his comment was rather warranted. And considering I was just compared to a dog, I don't think Xander will find too much sympathy from my end."

"Yeah, well..." Xander stalled, still hoping for a note of vindication.

"Okay, since you two were so kind to pay us both a visit," Buffy suggested with no small measure of self-restraint, "Why don't we continue this discussion at a more appropriate time. Spike and I just took down a mega Egyptian demon, sent a goddess back to her rightful realm, and I almost lost my soul a few hours ago, so..."

"I bet that's not all..." Xander surmised with disdain and then rising agitation, "Oh God, I really didn't want to think of that. Willow, I can't stay here..."

"Right, Buffy, I think you've made a very good point. Xander and I," Willow shot a glance at the nearly green Xander, "will get settled and see some of the city and meet the two of you downstairs after sunset. And then we'll _talk_. Sound good?"

"Everyone agreed?" Buffy pushed for consensus even though she didn't really like the idea. Anything to get them out of the hotel room.

"I'm all for them leaving this very instant, if my opinion's worth anything..." Spike drawled, anger radiating from his person.

"For once, I'm with Spike on this one," Xander chimed hurredly, already heading for the door. Willow followed anxiously after him.

When Xander and Willow were finally gone, the first thing Buffy wanted to do was jump Spike and ride him until they both thought of nothing else but each other. True, they'd have to deal with more objections later, but right now, after that shock, all Buffy wanted was to lose herself once more in her lover's skin, sound, smell and touch. She didn't care what anyone thought. Nothing compared to the electricity the two of them shared behind closed doors. If anything, it helped her escape the complexities she wasn't able or ready to deal with.

Spike, on the other hand, was trying desperately to digest the string of blows that had just been dealt to his psyche and sense of self-worth. He'd used nearly all his energy just trying to look tough and keep his big mouth shut as best he could—knowing it would only make things harder for Buffy if he lost it and went head to head with Xander.

"Buffy, could you close the second curtain. The sun's getting bright," Spike called from the windowless side of the room, hand covering his now distraught features.

It was late morning. Egyptian sun shone mercilessly, without a cloud to dampen its power.

Without a word, Buffy walked over and drew the second set of curtains, leaving the room several shades darker.

Spike's skin stopped itching and his eyes began to see with their regular vampire clarity once more. Silently, he wished the light film of water he blinked out of his eyes had been caused by the sun.

"I'd go out if I could. But it's too bloody bright here. Not even blankets do the trick," Spike muttered, only half expecting Buffy to listen.

"It's all right, babe, I don't have anything I need to do," Buffy slinked over to the large armchair where Spike had plopped his weary form.

"I wish I could go out. Staying in with that fiasco playing through my head..."

"Don't worry about them, Will." Buffy touched his hair, tracing it down his temple.

"I don't, but they are your friends and I don't see where I have any other choice!" He retorted with exasperation.

Buffy paused and took in his words. Reaching for him again, she lowered her face, trying to catch his gaze which was now fixed on his hands fiddling nervously in his lap.

"William, I think that's one of the most loving things you've ever said to me."

"Oh God, don't give me a medal. If that's one of the nicest things I've said, bloody Hell, I must nev..."

"Spike. Calm down. Please." Buffy let her hands wander across his chest, as she positioned herself in his lap.

"Calm down?! After that humiliating experience...give me a moment at least." Spike was still riled, but having Buffy in his lap helped to divert some of his negative attention.

Buffy started to pull his jacket away to reveal his bare chest, letting her body search and press against his.

"What are you doing?" Spike asked half-confused, half-aroused.

"Seducing my fantastic boyfriend," Buffy murmured against his cheek.

"Oh," was all Spike managed to say.


End file.
